


The Immortal Boy Hero

by Stephanie_Yields



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Animated GIFs, Art, Coming of Age, Digital Art, Dramedy, Explicit Language, Illustrations, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Sexual Content, My First South Park Fic, Other, POV First Person, POV Kenny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stephanie_Yields/pseuds/Stephanie_Yields
Summary: AN ILLUSTRATED FANFIC!Kenny McCormick has always been a great protector to his little sister, Karen. But Karen is no longer little. And When Kenny rekindles his friendship with Butters, opening up some confusing feelings, Things start to slip from his attention. Or perhaps they've been slipping for a long time.Contains: Drug use, Strong language, Sexual references, Adult themes.Next Chapter COMING SOON!TUMBLR: @theimmortalboyhero OR @stephanieyieldsWATTPAD: @StephanieYields
Relationships: Karen McCormick & Kenny McCormick, Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. Oh My God, Is This A Prologue? Well F@ck.

/> "Get your fucking ass out here, Kenneth," Mom shouts.  
The chair holding my door closed jiggles as she furiously knocks.  
I cautiously poke my head out from under the sheets.  
"Fuck," I whisper.  
"What?" Powder, the very cute and butt naked red head pokes her head out next to mine. She kisses my neck. Two squishy Boobs press in to my the side of my side. Soft skin and smells like... lavender? I pause. Crystal grey eyes and blond hair flash in my head. Fuck. Why lavender?  
"KEN! NOW!" Mom yells.  
Fuck.  
"Kay, Coming!" I shout.  
I jump out of bed and shake my head as I search through piles of dirty clothes, kicking away empty take out boxes and food wrappers. Only managing to find one pair of clean-ish pants in this waist land. My parka is nowhere to be seen.  
"Sorry. You better get out of here before Mom breaks the door down," I say.  
"What are you talking about?" she pouts, “We do it here all the time."  
The morning sun blinds me through the ripped sheet above my window.  
"Yeah But, You know. My mom's 'no sex in this house' rule. We must have been way to loud." technically the rule is ‘KENNETH! Don't you dare Knock up any harlots under my roof!' ... I’m pretty sure they stoped being a thing in the 1800s.  
  
My blue blanket slides off the bed. She walks towards me, hips swaying from side to side. Her arms wrap around my waist and She slides down, awkwardly flicking her hair out of her face. She smiles. The room lights up like a disco ball as the sun hits her braces. And I grimace.  
"Fine!" she snaps, covering her mouth with both hands, mumbling curse words under her breath. She throws on a black t-shirt and jeans. Twist her hair in to a bun. eyes fill up with rage as she jumps out the window.  
"Powder I Didn't..." I shut my mouth And lean out after her. The Cold air numbs my face.  
"I'll text you!" I whisper.  
She gives me the finger and walks away, leaving foot prints in the melting snow. 

"Pfft, Powder? Really?"  
Fuck! I'm court.

  


  
Karen, all dressed in black besides a large orange parka, leans on my door frame. The chair, once firm under the door handle, is now on the floor. Mom must have loosened it.  
"So?" I ask.  
"Kenny, come on...its Powder," She flicks her long blond hair over her shoulder, revealing a very mocking smile, "I mean, she's a bit of a weirdo. But I guess you like the weirdos."  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean? I like weirdos? I like Powder 'cause...'cause," _'cause she has amazing tits_ , "You know what. I don't have to explain my love life to a 13 year old. And No, You're not steeling my Parka again."  
She sighs, slides the parka off and ditches it at my face.  
"I'm just sayin'. All the last girl you slept with were psychopaths. I swear your gonna go missing and get cut up in to tiny little pieces one day... 'cause your in to weirdos." she laughs, “or die of syphilis.  
"Okay, umm wow, Harsh!"  
Did she just call my a Slut? And Powder's not a weirdo, maybe a nerd at best... A nerd who gives kind of... sharp ... blowjobs....  
"Anyway, Mom is pissed at you. She found out you drunk half her vodka and replaced it with water or something?" She asks.  
"oh yeah." Mom _can't get to mad at me. Not really. in a way I was just helping her cut down._  
"But on the plus side Dad's almost home. And you, him, Mom and I are all gonna watch Kevin's video message. He emailed us last night," She says.  
I roll my eyes.  
"No thanks."  
"Come on Kenny. It's been ages. And he's your brother!"   
"Ha! You sound like Mom," I say.  
Her shoulders rise up as she crinkles her nose at me.

  


I pull down on my rickety window. But it won't budge 'cause this old stupid house is all ways moving. Even the bathroom door has trouble closing now and then. Its no biggie though. I put my whole body weight on it and pull down till my feet come off the ground. It doesn't move.

"Look Out! Here Comes Kenny McCormick! Worlds Strongest Man," she says. "Here let me..."  
"No, I can do it."  
I pull again and slip. A sharp sting hits my finger as a jagged piece of wood stabs me. I hiss through clenched teeth and shove the cut between my lips. 

"Right. Move aside. I got this," she insists.  
"Ren!" I say. "Just, No!"  
"Why? Afraid I might get a splinter." she says, making quotation marks with her fingers.  
"NO!" ...Maybe.  
There's a thousand shards of broken glass on the floor, she could cut her feet... Also I don't want her in my room. It should be a quarantined zone. Not that I don't like it this way. But there are things a little sister shouldn't see. Like, her brothers dirty socks.  
She marches in, pushes past me. I grab her by the shoulders and steer her out. Her big brown eyes narrow as I close the door on her little face  
"You Suck, Kenny!" she says.  
BANG!  
The window slams shut. Glass shatters everywhere, from both sides. My jaw drops and I run my fingers through my shaggy blond hair. Karen peeks through the door.

"Shit," she says.  
 _FUCK.  
_


	2. Its A Boy Thing

**Craig :)**

 _Hey Doofus. Can you pick me up today?_  
  
K. See you soon ;)

_Thanks._

My Mom's car is a fucking shit box. The engine screeches and chokes as I start it, letting out an embarrassing amount of smoke from the exhaust. I hug the steering wheel to avoid leaning on the freezing, ripped seats. Waiting for Karen. She drags herself down the muddy drive way. Stopping at the mailbox, she closes her eyes and mumbles something to her self, like she's praying. The Hatch squeaks open and she just stands there, pouting. Since Kevin's last email, this happens every day, twice, like an annoying, weird ritual. I honk the horn to hurry her ass up. Her hand clenches her chest, and she falls to the ground, like one of those fainting goats.

  
  


"Hurry up Ren! You slow poke!" I laugh.  
She pokes her tongue at me and walks to the passenger side, opens the door, But doesn't get in.  
"I'm gonna catch the bus today," she says.  
"Ok? But I'm picking up Craig. Tricia might be tagging along with us."  
"You do know I have more then one friend, right?" she says.  
"Do you though?"  
My eyes narrow.  
"Is this a boy thing?" I ask.  
"Ah! No! I caught the buss last week. And I like it," she says, face turning pink.  
_No one likes the bus..._  
I gasp.  
"Holly fucking shit. It IS a boy thing! Your not catching the bus if it'sa boy thing! Not till I..."  
"OH MY GOD! It's not a boy thing!" She slams the door and storms off, kicking a can down the street.

I've been pretty suspicious something's been up with Karen. My biggest fear is her seeing someone. I know what teenage boys are like. As one myself its easy to know how their little perverted minds work. There is no way she's getting a boyfriend, ever. _Who is this little fuck stick._

The car rattles and rumbles, like its gonna fall to bits as it slowly putters up the pot hole ridden road. I slow down to match Karen's pace.  
"Come on Ren... Please get in? And talk about it?" _Tell me his name!_  
"Talk about WHAT?" she says, "There's nothing to talk about. So Just back off!"  
I change gears to match this god awful speed. And the car clunks to a stop. Karen pauses. Her shoulders slowly start bouncing. She breaks out in to laughter, snorting all the way to my window.  
"Kenny, there's nothing going on. It's not a boy thing. So You don't have to kill anyone," she insures me, giggling.  
"You Promise?" I ask.  
She wraps her small arms around me through the window and gives me a kiss on the cheek.  
"Promise," She says.

  
  


Tricia jumps in the back seat. She's glued to her phone and her chewing gum makes the car smell like grape. A nice change from cigarettes. I twist the drawstrings of my orange parka around my finger tips, watching them turn purple.

"Hey Tricia?" I ask, "you wouldn't know if Ren is seeing anyone?"

"Even if She was, It's none of your fucking business, Fuck boy," she says.

"Be nice," Craig says, sliding into the passenger seat. He's not wearing his blue chullo beanie and I resist the urge to mess up his shiny, black hair, neatly combed to one side. He also has the biggest rainbow scarf I'd ever seen, wrapped around his neck, all the way to his nose.

"What's with the scarf, you chode?" I ask.

"Firstly, it's a rainbow scarf. Don't disrespect the rainbow... And secondly, Tweek's mom made it for me," he says.

I look up in the rear view mirror. Tricia, sitting tall and neat, takes her eyes off her phone. A cheeky smile comes across her face.

"Genius here, thought it would be cool and edgy to pierce his bottom lip," she blows a bubble.

_POP!_

"He decided it would be a way WAY cooler idea to pierce snake bites all by him self." She says.

"Ha! No fucking way! Dude, Let's see!"

"No, piss off."

He turns towards the window, to hide his glowing red face. I can't help my self and reach across the cab, grab the scarf and pull it down. The car swerves as he knocks me away.

"Ouch. DUDE!" He yells. _Oh my god!_

His bottom lip is huge. Purple and yellow bruises swirl around the two metal studs.

"Dude!" I say.

"I know," he says.

"What did your parents say?

"Mom was a bit shocked but helped me clean it. Told me I ruined my handsome face and what ever. But I couldn't give a fuck," he says.

"And Your Dad?"

The most Mr Tucker would do is say _how disappointed he is._ Slap on the wrist.

"Well he hasn't seen it yet." He cringes.

I'm a little jealous. I can't have any body mods. Not without a lack of trying. When I die, I come back with nothing. Like a brand-new model. Not to mention my dad would beat the shit out of me. Tell me it's _fucking ugly_ or _Grow Up!_ It's not worth the effort. Oh, how I wish for a slap on the wrist.

"I assume Tweek hasn't seen them yet either?" I ask.   
He wouldn't need me to pick him up otherwise. Not that I mind.   
"He sure hasn't," Tricia laughs "Tweek wanted to pay a professional to do it, like for a Christmas present."  
"Shut up!" Craig says, wrapping the bright scarf back around his head. "It would have been a waste of his money... It's just one pin and two holes."  
"That's what _she_ said." I say. 

  
  


Craig shakes his head in disapproval.   
"So, Where's Karen today?" he asks. Changing the subject.   
"She took the bus."   
"That's weird. Karen hasn't been on the bus for ages." Tricia says.  
My foot slams down on the brake. I fly forwards in my seat. The Seat belt catches my, digging in to my chest and pulls be back.   
"What?" _The fuck!_  
"Dude!" Craig says, holding his arms out on the dashboard, "Calm down."  
Tricia neatens her hair. Her eyes move to one side.  
"Actually, I haven't seen her on the bus for weeks. I don't blame her. Nobody likes the bus, it's a shit whole."

We drop Tricia at the elementary school. She flips Craig the bird and he flips one back.   
"See you fuck face," she says.  
I search the crowd in front of the familiar yellow building, for blue, In hope my lying little sister might be here, alone. And if she's with a boy I'm gonna get out of this car. And fly kick him, with my sweet ninja skills. He wouldn't know what hit him, I did use to be Mysterion after all. Craig would have my back. Or hold me back. 

  
  


Orange and black streamers and fake spiderwebs hang in the high school hallways. Hundreds of paper pumpkins and bats taped on all the lockers, along with flyers. Flyers for all kinds of spooky advents, like the pumpkin picking festival and trick or treat safe zones for the freshman's.   
I rip the stupid flyers off my locker. Halloween is only three weeks away.

"KENNY!" Clyde shouts.  
He points to me from the end of the hall, holding a massive stack of purple paper. Token, also holding a pile of paper, smiles and waves. Clyde steps on his untied shoe lace and falls forward, arms flailing. A cloud of purple paper flys in the air and floats to the ground. The two boys get on their hands and knees, frantically scooping them up. I rush over to lend a hand.  
"Dude! Halloween weekend. Gonna be Maze-balls," Clyde says. He hands me one of the papers.  
"Tokens house this year? Sweet,” I say.   
"Yeah, My parents are away that night. So it's going to be freakin awesome! Its a dress up, obviously. And I'm going to be a King. The Party King. Booze will be provided but you can bring whatever you want." Token says.   
He dusts his knees off and gives me a wink.  
"Shit. Thanks your Highness I shell," I bow down to the king. "What you gonna be Clyde?"  
"Don't know if I want to be scary or funny... Maybe a Minion? Like those ugly yellow things."  
"Haha! Yeah. You can be a Minion, my Minion. Now come! The King needs to give out these flyers to let the good people know of my spooktacular soiree," Token says.  
To be honest I'm surprised Tokens hosting a party at all, after what went down last time.

  
  


Clyde turns and jolts   
"Jesus," he exhales, as Tweek appears out of thin air in the dancing papers. His Blond spikes of hair poke into his eyes as he pulls down on a blue chullo beanie.   
"Ahhhhgh, Have you seen Craig? I'vebeenlookingeverywhereforhim!" He asks.   
Token shakes his head.   
"Sorry Tweek, Dunno," He lies.   
But Tweek is like a human lie detector and marches up to the weakest of us and stares Clyde dead in the eyes. Sweat beads form on the poor chubby boy's forehead as Tweek leans in closer. Clyde steps back. His pupils move slightly in my direction. _God dam it Clyde_.  
"He's cowering in the bathroom,"I say.   
"Thanks!" He smiles.   
As he pushes through the bathroom door I cringe at Token, who also grits his teeth. Clyde divides his paper stack in two and cover his ears.  
 _Three, two, one._  
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"  
Tweek's screams could probably... No, definitely, be heard in china.   


  
  


Me and Craig, scarf still hiding his ginormous lip, end up sitting on the far table by the entrance of the cafeteria. Opposite to where we usually sit with the rest of the guys. But Cartman, Kyle and Stan, have been missing all day so I don't mind. Even if Tweek's death stare could make Craig spontaneously burst into flames at anytime. My chair squeaks on the floor as I move out of the fire zone

"Ha fucking Ha, don't think I don't know what your implying Kenny," Craig says.

He plays with his noodles. Swirling the fork in circles and being a huge wimp.

A few tables down, Butters scribbles something in his sketchbook all by himself. He rips out the scribbled page, scrunches it into a tight ball and flicks it to the other ten paper balls, scattered around him. He snaps his pencil in two and slams his head on the table. Poor kid. What did the sketchbook do to him. Butters might actually be better company today.

"You don't mind if I go see what's up with Butters?" I ask. 

I shouldn't be a bad friend and leave with Craig. But in my defense, Tweek is still wearing the blue beanie, so things ain't even bad. They'll be fine by the end of the day.

Craig looks up from his food and cocks an eyebrow.

"Why do you care about Butters?" he asks.

"What! I'm aloud to go say Hello." I say.

"...Yeah, I guess he hasn't talked to you in a while," He says.

"What?"

"Never mind, Just go," He says. 

  
  


The cafeteria is filled with loud laughter and muffled chatter as I navigate through the tables. A huge bang echoes from down the hall. Everything goes dead silent. My glass of water ripples and the ground starts to shake. All the hair on my body rises. Thunderous stomps echoes closer to the double doors and faint yelling follows behind.   
"Moo it get ot way!" the muffled voice yells.  
_What!?_  
"Look our!"  
 _Wait is that Stan?_  
"LOOK OUT!"  
SMASH! The double doors rip off there hinges, sending cracks up the wall as Cartman holds on for his life to a huge bull.   
"SHIT! FUCK! STOP! STOP! You Stupid! FUCK!" He squeals.   
The silence turns to screams. Every one jumps, pushes and runs out the way towards the exits. Food trays, chairs and tables fly every where. And Green and brown sludge oozes out of Cartman's mouth. The puke slides across his pale cheek and runs down the bull as the thing viciously shakes the fatboy like a doll. Stan and Kyle run in and force their way through the crowd.  
"KENNY, LOOKOUT!" Kyle screams.  
The bull eyes me down. He shakes his monstrous neck. Chunks of vomit go flying. I swear steam is coming from his nose as He scrapes the vinyl with one hoof. Cartman's eyes grow wide. The bull charges. I pull the red food trey flat up against my chest, mac'n'cheese spills down my parka. And my whole body tightens.   
_Fuck..._  
"OH MY GOD!" Stan yells. 

  
  



	3. The Luckiest Burrito

  
  


_'BUZZ BUZZ.'_

Same old growing pains spread to every bone. Brain pounding against my skull. Crippling foggy memories of death come back. Yep. There is no hangover like immortality.   
I blindly pat the cold side tabled and mattress for my phone. If I'm lucky, it wasn't completely trashed. And will either be with me or Cartman, the only friend that can remember my deaths, thankfully. it's nice to have help.  
' _BUZZ BUZZ_.'  
I force one eye open. Tears sting instantly at the brightness of my phone's newly cracked screen.

**fat ass**   
_**Hey Kenny totally ran over you with the school mascot.**_

**_BUT! If you read your texts_  
 _this wouldn't have happened._  
 _you were ment to_ _meet us at the gymnasium SO fuck you kenny >:(_ _ps go the cows!_**

_**I'm sorry :(**_

k.

My blanket completely wraps around me and cushions the fall as I roll off the bed. All warm and cozy, like a burrito. A Kenny burrito.   
"Augh!"   
Why did I come back on a school day? It's so nice in here, dark and... _Wait a minute, it's morning!_

My aching, burrito body pulls itself to a crunch, off the glass free floor. And the once shattered window, covered in a ripped sheet, is now a piece of plywood.   
_Oh Shit_.

  
  


The door fly's open with such force the handle smashes in to the wall. My blood runs cold. The sound of thudding in my ears gets louder and faster. I can't move.   
"KENNY!"  
Dad chugs back his beer and crushes the can in his hand. He wipes the foam from his mustache and storms at me. The can tinks and twangs as it hits the ground. This is not a good time to be a Burrito. My muscles tense as he punches my torso. One blunt hit to the stomach,and I'm winded.  
"I'll fucking Teach you, You fucking piece of shit!" he says.  
"Piss OFF!" I shout.   
Gasping for air, I squirm to avoid his next punch. The stupid burrito tightens the harder I try to break free. And a blunt pain smacks me right in the eye. He stops and loosens his fist, both eyebrows raised. The heat throbs around my eye.   
And He turns away.   
"If you ever, brake my house again," he says. He wrenches the door from the wall. "AND your paying for that." 

  
  


My hood doesn't hide the huge bruise. Not that anyone will notice, it's not the first time. When Kevin was forcibly sent to military school Dad needed a new punching bag. I'll keep the hood up and pulled tight anyway, to avoid people's sorry looks.   
The nurses office is clean, and empty. I close my eyes and listen to muffles from the hall. Making out familiar voices, while an ice pack cools my face.

The door bursts open and I flinch.  
"Kinny! Did you see the prank we pulled on Mr Rodgers, yesterday after noon?" Cartman says. His face lights up with excitement as he hands me his phone, "honestly, you won't believe it. It was so fucking awesome."  
I swipe through the photos of Stan looking gangster next to Mr Rodgers desk. A selfie of cartman with Mr Rodgers mug, making duck face. And a close up of Kyle, pist off.

  
  


"We totally put laxatives in his coffee. He had the shits all day. Serves him fucking right for giving me a C- on my test." He laughs.   
Kyle bursts through the door, arms up in the air. Stan follows close behind.  
"It was wrong and you know it, fat ass," Kyle says.   
"Pfft. Whatever Kyle," Cartman says "your just a pussy ginger Jew, who can't grow a beard."  
"What does that have to do with anything?! Mr Rodgers is still in hospital!"  
Cartman's smile turns so sinister it could make babies cry.  
"Deep down you know you deserved an A on that test. We all did... cause WE cheated. Didn't we Kyle?" He says.

"Whatever fat ass. Come on Kenny we have Spanish," Kyle grabs me by the jacket and pulls me almost all the way to class. _Yuck, Spanish_.

Our teacher, Ms Garcia leans over her desk while reading her book out loud in Spanish. Her top two buttons are undone and the red lace from her bra is visible, reminding us why we took this class in the first place. We're meant to follow along as she reads, but I never do. If there's a test, I'll copy off Kyle. Kyle is so god dam book smart. We sit in the back to avoid attention even though teachers usually leaves Kyle alone. I pretend to read along, chewing on my hood's drawstrings, turning the pages when the rest of the class does.  
Butters, further down the front, is also pretending to read along. He's doing a shit job at it to. His book is standing up on the desk. He sketches on a note pad. Not even bothering to turn the pages.   
I rip a page from the book and scrunch it in a small ball.And as the teachers eyes move down to her desk, I launch it at Butters head. He jerks up and turns around, scratching the spot where I nailed him. He's funny when he's confused. I wave my index finger and send him fake kisses. His s face lights up and subtly wave from under his desk. 

  
  


"Leopold Stotch! Is there something you'd like to share?" Ms Garcia says.  
"No miss!" Butters says. He knocks his book on the ground and scrambles to pick it up, juggling it as he drops it again. I chuckle. Ms Garcia gives me the stink eye, and Kyle jabs me with his elbow. Turns out he's also not listening. He's playing some stupid card game on his phone.  
"If you don't mind, please read the rest of the chapter why don't you," she says. Moving her attention back on Butters.  
"Chapter? ... Oh yep. Yep. Sure." He flicks through the pages.  
"Chapter tres, Stotch."  
"Oh tres, right." he say.   
I try following along with my finger on the page as Butters reads. But can't help watch him read. Every word comes out so perfectly. Butters is some what fluent in Spanish from a few odd life experiences.

All the other students hustle out of the classroom. I shove the ratty book in my bag and wait for Kyle to finish off his game. Ms Garcia hips swaying, walks up to our desk. She Bends over, elbows leaning on the table. Her hooters in full view. My jaw drops. There all most falling out of that tiny red bra, I swear to fucking god. I nudge Kyle, and he snaps up from his phone. His face goes pink as he try's to avoid staring at those amazing tits.  
"Kyle. You have so much potential, why do you waist your time playing these silly games in my class?" she says.   
Kyle gulps.   
"I, ah, I won't do you. I mean I will do you. I mean!I'll get hard... WORK harder," he says.   
"OH! And no hoods Kenneth, it's rude," she says.   
I lean back in the chair and turn my head side ways as I watch her ass leave the room.

  
  


"So, Mr Smooth, you ready for lunch?" I ask.   
"Shut up... I'll... I'll meet up with you in a bit."  
What Kyle doesn't know is I also have A boner, tucked upwards my jeans. It's not the most comfortable position but it works. My hands in to the pockets subtly pull down over my crutch. And I walk out with dignity.Kyle is smart, but he's book smart. 

  
  


"My Eyes are up here Kenny," Bebe says. Her long blond curls fall over her sholder, framing her boobs as she leans over my lunch tray at the end of our table. _Is it my lucky day or what_?   
"Can we Help you Bebe?" Kyle asks, coldly.  
"Quiet, big nose!" She snaps, "Kenny, why are you such an ass hole?"  
"Me?! What Did I do?!"  
"Well! You used Powder for sex, twice! Called her ugly and ghosted her!" she says.   
"Hold on. I did not call her ugly," I say, "Powder went all crazy on me. I fucking said nothing... And I ghost every one!"  
 _Literally!_

Butters, Happier then ever, pushes between me and Kyle.  
"Hey fellas, what's up?" he says.   
"Nothing much, just Bebe being a total bitch 'cause Kenny slept with a crazy chick... again," Cartman says.  
"Oh!"  
"Since when have you been such an ass hole Kenny? What the fuck happened to you?" Bebe say.   
"Oh my god, piss off already!" Craig says.  
She lets out a huff and flicks me on the nose. like she would flick a naughty dog, and leaves. _Ouch_.

"Hey Kenny," Butters says. He stares straight at my bruise. And I immediately tense up and look down at my food, not wanting to attract any attention to it.  
"Hey Leo... sorry I got you in trouble," I mumble.  
"Oh! It's fine. I should have been paying attention. It was my fault."  
I could murder someone, and he would find away to blame himself.  
"What where you drawing?" I ask, avoiding eye contact.  
"My art assignment. But I'm having trouble with my darn subject. I my have art block," he says, placing his hands under his pointy chin. He leans across the table. My body relaxes a bit now he's not focused on me.   
"Have you decided what you're painting yet, Craig?" he asks.   
Craig is in the same class. That kid has not one creative bone in his body, but the guidance canceller told both him and Tweek they need separate classes. Tweek had to choose music, of course. Which left Craig with art. He likes it though, it's super easy, apparently.   
"I'm thinking of painting the canvas white. Then paint my ass blue. And then press my ass on the canvas. 'Cause art is subjective or some crap like that." He says.  
"HA! I'd buy that!" I laugh.  
Tweek, holding Craig's hand, rolls his eyes. And the corners of Butters smile turns down. Unlike Craig, he actually cares for art class.  
"You are such a wanker Craig," Cartman mumbles under his breath and Stan snorts so hard, milk shoots out of his nose.  
"Shut up Stan, why don't you go back to writing your stupid sappy songs about how Wendy fucking Testaburger dumped your ass for the twentieth time," Clyde says.

  
  


The last bell finally rings. And Me, Cartman, Kyle and Stan can taste freedom. The light at the end of the hall looms closer as we shove our way through the crowd.   
"One small step for man," Stan says.   
"One large ..." Something grabs my arm and pulls me back in side.  
Fuck, what have I done now?   
Oh.   
A wave of relief comes over me 'cause it's not Bebe... Or Powder coming for the kill, it's Butters.   
The corner of his lips still turned down and Butterflies fill my stomach. I pull my drawstrings tight. A shitty attempt to hide my face.   
"Ken?" he says.   
"Leo," I say.  
"What happened to your eye?"  
"I... walked in to a door?" I lie.   
His fingertips are warm against my cheeks as he pulls my hood down to my shoulders.   
"That must have been some door..." he says.  
"Well, you should see the door, he's way worse off," I say.   
He softly smiles and my face gets warm. "Anyway, your art project... Did you want help with it? I could help with it... If you want?"   
Is offering Butters help weird? I can't draw for shit, and he knows that, But it's been awhile since we last hung out, just us.   
He presses his lips tight together.   
"Ummm. I'll have to ask if its ok. I'm sort of grounded still. Well, I think I'm grounded. But maybe Saturday?" he asks.  
"Sure, Saturday. No problem."  
"Thanks Ken. You really are a hero. I'm, ah, a bit stuck on this one," he says.   
We both walk through the glass door to our freedom. And I wave and watch his freedom disappears as he gets in to his dad's car. 

. 

  
  


.


	4. The Fat Turd & A Bad Brother.

  
  


**Ren**

Hey did you need a lift from school?

**_No thank going to Tricias_ ** _**but can you pick me up later?** _

Yeah Text me when yo ready :)

The last beams of light turn the sky orange over the mountains. Tweek turns the plastic sign dangling on the door around. And wipes the finger prints off the large glass wall with a rag. His shoulders relax, and a faint smile comes across his tired face. Tweek bros is finally closed for the day. I pick the blueberries out of Clyde's half eaten muffin as he attempts to finish his homework. And Craig, sitting tall, scrolls through his phone for guinea pig memes. His yellowish green bottom lip pushes outwards as he forces one of the metal studs to do circles with his tongue.   
"Haha! Come on, this one's pretty good," he says. Shoving his phone over the lined papers scattered over the table.   
"Oh my god, please stop," Clyde says.

Tweek places a coffee in front of me. He moves a chair from another table scraping it across the hard wood floors and sits next to his tall boy, and grins. I lick the chocolate sprinkled foam on the lid. Out of politeness. And 'cause its free. I'm sure he can make a great coffee, and It smells nice. But give me an energy drink any day.

"So what's every one doing this weekend," Tweek asks.   
Clyde scratches his face with the wrong end of a pen, leaving scribbled blue lines across his cheek and tidies the mess of pages. Tapping them in to a neat stack.   
"Probably this," he says.   
"... I'm hanging out at Butters," I say, adding ten packets of sugar to my coffee. And ignoring the sudden narrowed stare from Craig.   
"Wow, I didn't think any one was aloud to step foot in his house, after last time," Clyde says.   
"Yeh don't you feel special," Craig says.   
I shrug.   
The last time we were at Butters house. I died, and when I die, people barely remember my existence. Like I was never there. One of many annoying traits that come with my immortality.

"I have to take Tricia to the movies, apparently we have to have more family time," Craig says. He wraps his lanky arm around Tweek, pulling him close.   
"Nice. Maybe you can give me tips on dealing with the weird little sisters, afterwards," I laugh.   
"Pfft, I have tips," he says, "Like if You run out of silver bullets, tie them to a stake and light a match."   
"Thanks."   
"I'm dead serious, she's driving me nuts right now. She doesn't shut up. Won't stop asking about Tweek and me," he says.   
"Well at least she talks to you! Ren's gone all quiet and mysterious," _Woah! Light bulb moment_. "Hey! Is it possible you could ask Tricia if Ren's seeing anyone. Or to get a name or something."

"Oh My God. Could you imagine if all the brothers of every girl you've been with, hunting you down?" Tweek says.  
"What do you mean?"   
"I just recon you should leave them alone. Could you imagine someone Wanting to know every minor detail of your life? Eh! And every one your Involved with! Watching or every move! That's not living man! Not Living!"

  
  


"Calm down Tweek," Craig says, Handing his hyperventilating boyfriend a paper muffin bag.   
_Ok..._  
That's easy for Tweek to say, though. He's an only child, who's been brought up by parents who actually love him. And it's not like I'm gonna intervene or kill the kid, just scare him a little.

Clyde stretches back, balancing on the wooden chair. Arms behind his head. Shoes on the table.   
"Yeah. If My big sister was controlling, I'd get her to back off. No one can tell this guy what to do," He says.

Ding Ding!  
The bell above the glass door rings. Tweek's paper bag pops and I flinch. And Clyde falls back as his legs fly out. Token, standing in the doorway, pokes his head out from behind a massive box marked ' _decorations_ ' on the side.  
"CLYDE! Answer your god dam phone dude! I've been looking for you all afternoon! Come on we have to stash these things, I'm thinking your house," he says. "Let's go!" 

  
  


Mom's car has no cup holders. And It's a waist to tip the coffee out so the warm drink sits between my thighs as I drive around the familiar streets close to home. Dad's rusty old pick up truck is parked out side our house. And the less time at home, or with that man the better. I just... 

  
  


"Shit!"  
Two glowing eyes appear in the middle of the road. I swerve out the way. Hit a pot hole. And the coffee jumps up, does a three sixty and spills on my crotch, runs down my legs and soaks into the car seat.   
"Fuck! Hot! Hot! Hot!"   
I reach for the glove box, to grab some napkins. And a big-fat blob of red appears in the corner of my eye. I slam on the breaks. The car screeches as I hold on to the steering wheel, arm straight, teeth clenched and eyes shut tight. My heart stops at the crumpled thud of something hitting the hood. I jolt forward in my seatbelt. And It flings me back like a slingshot. Ears ringing, I turn the car off and pull out the keys.   
_What the Fuck was that?!_

Cartman jumps up from in front of the newly dented car, blood running down one side of his face. Brows raised and eyes wide.   
"HEY! ARE YOU CRAZY?! YOU ALL MOST KILLED! ... oh hey Kinny," he says.   
I try waving, forcing my hand to make the tiniest movements, like a queen. He tucks his brown hair back in his beanie and staggers to my window.   
"Did you see Kitty up the street?" he asks.   
_What?!_  
"Kitty might be a whore, but that little Shit is never late for dinner," he says.   
_WHAT?!_  
"Dude! I just Hit You with My Fucking Car!"   
The psychopath pulls his bright red jacket up and wipes the blood off his face. Swaying a little.  
"Takes more then your mom's piece of crap car to take me down, now are you going to help me find my cat or not?" he asks.   
"Ummm, Yeah... Ah, I guess."  
"Sweet!"   
He stumbles back a few steps, arms bent. And jumps on the hood sliding Across it like a badass. And flails as he disappears over the edge. The crack of his head hitting the road makes my stomach turn.   
"Want me to take you to the hospital?!" I ask.   
He gives me a thumbs up, hand covered in blood. 

  
  


Cartman fiddles with the bandage covering his two new stitches on his brow and shoves the chicken nuggets I brought him in to his mouth. We're both shitty at the doctor for giving us nothing, but regular Tylenol for pain relieve. Apparently the good shit is inappropriate for concussions.

"Have you tried that street," he muffles, mouth full of nuggets, Arm stretched across my face pointing out the window in to the darkness. Its late and the whole neighborhood is quiet.

"Cartman, we've been down every street in South Park like three times now. Think we should call it a night. Plus Cats are pretty smart. Kitty will be fine," I yawn.   
"Fine," he says, " oh! by the way. Stan got fireworks for his birthday. So we're going to blow stuff up on Sunday, you in?"   
"Fuck Yeah."

  
  


The breaks squeak as we pull up in his driveway. Cartman sucks the last of his soda obnoxiously through the straw and the Ice rattles as he moves it around, getting every last drop. His brow has doubled in size. he sort of resembles an obese caveman in this dim light.

The Stotch's house is next door its almost finished being repainted after the destruction from the party in the summer. Butters doesn't remember me that night and that is probably for the best.

"Can Butters come on Sunday?" I ask.

"No kinny, keep your boy toy at home," he says.

"What?!"

"you know what..."

"Oh do tell me Cartman the great, wise and all knowing, what am I doing wrong!?" I ask.

His arms fly up.

"Your getting all gay for Butters again, it's so fucking obvious, dude."

_Excuse me!_

"I'm not gay for Butters!"

"You know what? I don't care. You do you," He says. The car wobbles as he gets out, "Just stop denial fucking every crazy bitch in the whole county afterwards. Because we are ALL sick of the fucking aftermath."

He stomps to the front door of the green house, jingling his keys.

"HEY FAT-ASS!" I whisper, "your welcome for dinner!"

_Fucking Fat Turd._

He unlocks his door, points to his stitches and gives me the finger.

  
  


Karen's not home and her normally locked door squeaks open with a tiny tap. I freeze, Listening out for Mom and Dads snores. And close the door behind me. I'm not a bad brother. I'm just concerned. I'm aloud to be concerned.   
The light globe flickers out. I pull my phone out, but it has died to, leaving me with nothing but moon light from the window. It shines on the band posters covering the old scribbles of butterflies and reflects off an old photo of us three kids, taken before Kevin decided it would be a great Idea to blow up the whole Middle school.

His face smugly smiles at me.   
"Don't look at me like that. Your the one helping a war in god knows where, instead of helping us here," I whisper. Putting the photo face down on the dresser.   
I gently open the first broken drawer, and dig through the piles of black. And the deeper I dig, the less black Karen's clothes become. Even a pink shirt remains, right at the bottom. I honestly thought She would have burnt anything remotely girly.   
The last drawer is practically empty. Just A bundle of letters in the corner and a paper bag scrunched in a loose ball. My favourite smell fills the air as I carefully pry it open.   
"How the fuck did you get these Ren?"   
I take the lonely joint and the small plastic bag full of weed from the bottom of the paper bag, shove them in my pocket and pick up the letters. I doubt they would be from a secret admirer. You would have to be some kind of jerk-off writing love letters these days. I'm mistaken. flick through them. Checking the addresses and names. I'm mistaken. All the unopened letters are from Kevin. And he's not a jerk-off. He's more of a fucking moron. 

  
  


.


	5. Getting High With Butters is Better.

Mr Stotch, stands in the doorway. He eyes me down, pipe in one hand and a newspaper under his arm. His brows pull down, and nose wrinkles up. I'm what he would call a bad influence. This is fine, though. He's what I'd call a Wanker.   
"Hey Mr Stotch. How are things?" I say. My Cheeks pull upwards and teeth clench in some shitty grin.   
"Oh hello Kenneth, it's been a while. I'm well thanks. I hope all is well with your dad?" He asks.   
I shrug.   
It has been awhile 'cause you kept your son locked away since the party last summer. 'Cause your a wanker. And as for my dad... He's a wanker too.   
"Well Butters is up stairs in his room. However, he's still grounded, so no leaving the house," he says.

All the furniture is neat in its place, nothing dusty or broken, all covered in ugly doilies. The smell of lavander and bleach burns my nostrils as I slowly walk through the living room. The stairs are so shiny my reflection stares nervously back at me. I take my first step, and slip. My Back thuds hard against the green wall. A family photo rattles and slants to one side. Butters mom, Stops scrubbing the spotless tiles. Her stare burns straight threw me from the kitchen. Wishing my hood was up and pulled tight, I awkwardly straighten the frame upright. And her grim face turns back to a gentle smile as she continues scrubbing.   
"Not clean, not clean." She whispers, scrubbing hard over the spot I died last time I was here. Blood is hard to get out. I'll give Her that. 

  
  


  
"Oh hey Ken!" Butters says. Twisting his body around in his office chair that can clearly swivel. A large canvas, covered in pencil, sits on the desk in front of him. Along with piles of sketchbooks. His smile stretches across his face, and my palms start to sweat. I place them in my pockets.   
"Hey Leo. Umm what you working on?" I ask.  
"Just a sketch," he says.   
Squinting, I try to make anything out from the mess of marks as they dance on the canvas.  
"I wanted to try abstract... but I don't know."   
He Places his head down, one cheek pressed on to the desk, and lets out a large moan. I place one hand on his shoulder and press my thumb in circles down his warm back.   
"Cheer Up Butter Cup." I say.   
"I need to get an A on this ken it's my ticket to freedom," he muffles, "Dad says, if I can get my grades up, well, I won't be grounded no more."   
My other hand, in my pockets, grips something that might help.   
"It's sounds to me. Someone needs some inspiration," I say, pulling out a joint. I trace it around the indents of his ear. "Will this help?"   
Goosebumps appear on his neck. And he jolts up, eyes wide.

  
  


"Are you crazy?! What if dad..."  
I gently put an index finger over his lips, place the joint in between mine and pull out my lighter.   
"What if he doesn't?" I say.   
The lighter clicks a small flame in to existence. And I light the Wizard stick. "Let's make magic happen."  
"AH! Kenny no!"   
He Jumps from the chair, leaping at me like some crazy homeless dude desperate for change. I inhale, hold my breath. And we both stumble back. The tips of his light blond hair tickle my nose as he pushes me against the wall. I stretch my arm up as high as I can, joint out of reach. He jumps on his tippy toes, grabs my wrist, and attempts to pull it down. I stretch up even taller. So tall the ground is miles away.   
"Come on ken! Give it to me!" he whispers.   
_Well ok..._  
Wrapping my arm around his torso, I pull him to my chest. Our noses touch, and his face turns bright red. Making the scar Across one of his sparkling crystal gray eyes become visible. I exhale, and a cloud of smoke dances over his face.

  
  


"Oh hamburgers," he says, taking the joint from my fingers.  
It's hard not to smile as he coughs. Maybe I am a bad influence, but I can't help it. He's super funny when he's high. Like the time we...

"Hey! What about painting a ninja?" I say.   
"A ninja?" He coughs.   
I hop up on the bed and squeaks as I jump like it's a trampoline. Palms open, arms stiff, I karate chop the air.   
"Yeah, Cause Ninja's are..."  
Something sparkly, in his wardrobe, catches my eye.   
"Ninjas are wha..."   
"Shhhhh."  
I slowly walk up to the wardrobe. One foot in front of the other, preparing my self for what lies behind those white, clattered, doors. Jumunji drums faintly play in the background. Shit is getting real. I pull the doors open and jump back as a bag of marbles fall. Hundreds of glass balls, in every color of the rainbow, clink and scatter and roll over the brown carpet.   
_Oops._  
"What are you doing?" He ask.   
"I'm, ah. Um... Um... Oh yeah..." I say.   
On the top shelf, above his pile of neatly folded clothes is the helmet of Butters old alter ego, Professor Chaos. And his green Cape. The ratty, warn tinfoil helmet Is too small for me, so I wear it like a crown.   
"Ta dah!" I say, twirling on the spot. Making the itchy cape fly out. "What you think?"  
"I think you have lost your marbles," he laughs.   
_Ahaha._  
I start dancing around the room, fist punching the air, dramatically shouting.   
"I am professor Chaos bringer of destruction and doom!"

  
  


Butters cute chuckle gets louder. It's been so long since I made him laugh like this, and don't want any of this to stop. I spin on the spot faster but a few marbles slip under my feet. And the hole room blurs. And, BANG! I crash straight in to his desk. All of Butters books and things scatter on the marble covered ground.   
_Ouch!_  
"Butters?!" Mr Stotch shouts, "What are you doing up there?! It sounds life fun! You better not be having fun, you here!"  
We freeze, trying to be as still as statues. Butters eyes sparkle straight into mine. I take the joint from his hand, and inhale as much as I can and throw the thing out the fucking window.   
"Butters you answer me right this instant, young man!"   
"Ah we're just... ahh," Butters says.   
"Science! Where doing science!" I wheeze out. Tiers run down my cheeks as I try to die quietly, hitting my chest with my fist.   
"Oh. Ok... well, good," Mr Stotch says.   
Butters cheeks puff up, and he bursts out laughing. His arms hug his stomach as he sucks in air. I start to clean up the mess I made, but one of the sketchbooks fell open. I flick through the pages. All most all the sketches are of Boobs and beautiful faces. Some are familiar, resembling the girls in our grade.   
"Leo! These are amazing! Dude, you're so fucking talented!" I say.   
"Heck, thanks," he says nervously.   
"Why don't you paint one of these for your art project?!" I ask.   
"I kind of started to, but Dad said, it's not appropriate."  
 _Of course he did._  
"Can I keep this book?" I ask.   
"Umm sure?" He says.   
"These pictures are pretty fucking hot... Wait did I say that out loud."  
Butters cute chuckles fills the room. And I pull out a whole bag of weed.   
"... you wouldn't happen to have a can or water bottle lying around would you?" I ask.

  
  


**Stan**

_Hey dude, totally got fireworks.Tomorrow we're gonna go set them off, you in?_

**Fuck Yeas**

Dad is past out on our old run down couch, his dirty socks, one toe poking out, sits on the broken coffee table. And NASCAR, volume blaring, is on TV. It fills the whole house with screaming engines. I carefully pry the remote from his hand. But he is holding an opened beer can on his chest, and as I yank the remote out, it spills a little. Instead, I take the beer can from him and scull it back. I can turn the TV off manually.   
The colour's are so intense, like a loud beaming force field. I grate my fingers over the buttons, searching for the right shape. And _Blink_. the Screen goes black. But the sound of music Place just as loud as the Engines.   
"That's not right?!"  
I scratch my head and turn the TV on again. And the loud zooms fill the house. I turn it off again. The screen goes black. But music still plays. _Ok, TV you have won this time._  
"Karen, turn your fucking music down!" Mom shouts. Her shitty groans ring from the kitchen. And The music gets louder.   
_Oh..._

Mom sits at the kitchen table. A nasally voice from her laptop yells names of the poor animals being forced to run in circles for our entertainment. My stomach growls, the only thing I've eaten today was butters mom's cookies, probably the best cookies I have ever tasted. The closest thing to baking my mom has ever done was putting the toaster down.

MY mouth waters as I Reach up on my toes for a box of pop tarts in the top cabinet. 'Cause pop tarts are the closest thing to cookies in this house. My finger tips greases the box. For some reason my delicious sugar coated cookie pastry things are pushed right to the back.  
"Kenny! Do you really have to eat all the pop tarts in one sitting? Mom says.   
"Why? Did you loose on the horses again?"   
"None of your god dam business," she snaps. "Can you please just take a one or two?"  
"Mom, I'm a growing boy, I need all the food I can get right now. And maybe if you didn't bet all your money on such a barbaric sport, we could afford two boxes of tarts," _and also fuck you._  
I jump up and grab the box, hugging it to my chest as I land. And grab a half rolled up box of cereal from the bench.   
"Well Maybe if you stop stealing my weed, I could afforded more," she says.  
"Don't you dare fucking go there? You know I steal it straight from Stan," I Lie. Stands been on a pot lockdown since the party. I usually steal from Dad though.   
"I'm not doing this right now, get out of my kitchen and tell your fucking sister to turn down this trash,"

"Go shoot up you miserable cow!" I yell.

"You son of a bitch!" She says.

  
  


  
In victory, I grab my snacks and float away down to the hallway. Why does everyone in this fucking family hates me. Except karen, she doesn't hate me.

The beautiful melody swirls around my head. I swear the music notes are right in my face, as they lead me to Karen's room. They disappear in shadows dancing on the walls from the candle light. And Karen, eyes closed, lies up side down off her bed. Her long blue hair touch's the floor like a waterfall.

  
  


I trough a pop tart at her and she swings up.   
"You want a pop tart?" I ask. And lay back on my bothers old sheetless bed. The softness molds my body perfectly. It's like quicksand... it sucks me in.   
"Mum said we had none," she says.   
"Well Mom is a fucking liar," I say.   
"HA! Yeah, she's a snoop too. She went through my room you know?!"  
"What?"  
"She came in to my room last night, and stole my... Stole some stuff? She said she has know idea what I was talking about. And told me I have to pay for the light globe! Because ' _Stuff doesn't grow on trees_.' Grrr, I really hate her sometimes. Why can't she leave me alone?!"   
"Oh..."  
Tweeks words echo as a funny feeling fills my chest. It wasn't wrong to sneak in here last night. It wasn't wrong to steal her stuff... And smoke it. All of it. Was it?  
"Don't worry about it. I'll can get you a new globe. Umm... Have you got any letters from solder boy yet?" I ask.   
"Oh... ah, No," she says, mouth full of pop tart. "How long do you think Kevin will be gone this time?"  
"Could be a year. Last time it was a year," I answer. _Not that_ _I_ _was counting._  
She falls back in to her pillow. Blue hair flings every where.   
"Member when we use to go play under the bridge in the forest? And He would teach us how to shoot cans," she muffles.   
"Ha! Yeah. I member. You were a horrible shot," I Laugh. She really was, almost killed me many times. "What about the time we graffitied that bridge?!"   
"Yes!" she says. "Kevin through the can at you when the cops rocked up."  
I curl my hair in my fingers as cracks on the roof grow and twist, turning in to these memories. I didn't mind spending the night at the station, Mom and Dad where fighting anyway. But the beating afterwards sucked.   
"You know Ren?" I ask, "the graffiti is still there... Did you want to check it out tomorrow?"   
She springs up, face beaming.   
"Woah, REALLY. Hell yes!"  
"Cool, its a date," I yawn.   
My eye lids are so heavy, I let them close. And The colored dancing shape go completely black as the music shuts off, and the smell of smoke fills the air. 

  
  


.


	6. Don’t Worry be Happy.

  
  


Liked by **KyleBroflovski092** and 16 others.   
  
**buttnuts** : thanks for helping me and thanks for changing my name haha @kencormick69   
  
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**stephenstotch_** : You change your username this instant young man before your mother sees it!!   
**buttnuts** : yes sir.   
  
**kencormick69:** I don’t remember how I got the car home.

Laying at the bottom of the bathtub, the shower rains down on my face. Mouth open, tongue out to absorb as much water as possible. The details of last night are a little foggy. Raising questions Like why Kevin’s bed is ten times more comfortable then mine. Or how did I even get home last night? But Fuck me, Mrs Stotch’s cookies were good.  
  
The door creaks and slowly swings open letting in the fucking arctic air. I jolt up, slipping on the glossy wet surface. My arms reach out for the non existing shower curtains. While a glorious cloud of steam gets sucked out in to the hall.   
I twist the tap off, causing the pipes to bang in the walls. Quickly Wrap a towel tightly around my waist and grab a shirt before it’s...  
  
_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_  
  
It’s too late. I run in to the hall and wave the shirt at the screaming smoke alarm. Who changed the batteries?! Since when does this family care about fire safety?! Blinking out the water dripping in my eyes, I wave the shirt faster. And the high-pitched beeps finally stop.

  
  


  
“What the hell!” She says.   
“Sorry. I’ll lock the door next time,” I say, sliding the shirt over my wet head.   
“No Ken, what the actual Hell!”  
She points down the hall through the clearing steam. “She didn’t even make it to bed.”  
  
My parents Bedroom door is wide open. And Mom is past out on the floor in the dark. I roll my eyes.   
“Mom, wake up you drunk bitch,” I shout.   
She doesn’t respond.   
I gesture Karen to stay put. And prepare my self for another stupid argument. Mother of the year award goes to Carol. Congratulations for ALMOST passing out in your bed at three o’clock in the afternoon. I flick on the light.   
  
“Oh,” My heart drops.   
“Kenny?” Karen asks. Her footsteps thud towards me and she crashes in to my back. Phone waving around as she tries to push past. “Is she alright? I can help? I'll call Dad!”   
“No! Just! Don’t come in here!”   
“But!”  
I close the door on her face.   
  
Mom, surrounded by old magazines and beer cans, lays lifeless with a rubber tube tide tight around her upper arm. I step over Her, making sure there's no needles hiding in the trash. Her chest is moving, and her mouth opens a little. I take in a deep breath of air. She didn’t over do it this time. And move the curtain of red hair across her face, tucking it behind her ear.   
“For fuck sake Mom. I didn’t literally mean shoot up.” I whisper. And heave her into my arms and on to her bed. It squeaks as I sit beside her, Removing the stupid yellow cord. Her skin is pale and lips are cracked. She blinks her bright blue eyes under darkened circles.   
"Mmmh Kevin?" She mumbles.  
“No Mom, it’s Ken,” I say. _The son who’s actually here. Taking care of you._  
“Yes. Ken... Kenny hates me. All the kids hate me, Kevin, I don’t know what to do,” she sobs.   
My teeth clench.   
“Mom, I don’t hate... They don’t hate you,” I say. “And forget about Kenny. He was being a fucking moron. Ok?”  
"I try Kevin. I really do,” she says.   
“I know Ma," I say. And kiss her on the cheek.

  
  


  
  
  
I control myself not to slam Moms door on the way out. And with trembling hands close it quietly. But The guilt heats up inside me. A horrible tension builds up in my brain. And fists ball up tight, nails digging into my palms. Long gone the days Mysterion would swoop in saving the day. Stealing her god dam crack pipes, and taking down meth labs. All I seem to be doing right now is making things worse. Red and white flash over me.   
"Fuck you, Kevin!”  
My fist strikes through the fucking wall. I collapse to the ground as a stabbing pain runs through the knuckles. _Fuck. You. Kevin._  
  
“OH MY GOD!” Karen screams, “is she dead! Is she dead?! I’ll call 911!”  
I place the throbbing hand between my thighs and curl up in a ball. What ever you do Ken, Do not cry. Suck it up. Dry wall fragments crumble on top of me, revealing a wooden beam and some old dusty wires.   
"No... she's fine..." I wince.   
"Damn it Kenny! You scared the Hell out of me!"   
The back of her head gently knocks the wall and she slides down to my level, Wrapping her arms around her knees. We just stay here, curled up in the dim hall. Letting our shitty reality linger in silence.   
  
“Are you fine?" she asks.  
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie.

  
  


  
  
  
  
  
Karen sits across from me on the kitchen table. Pages of white paper sprawled out in front of her, covered in random crayon drawings of happy families and crappy dad jokes. I grit a cigarette in my teeth. And bag of frozen peas helps turn the throbbing to a dull ache. It allows me to gently hold a box of matches in between two swollen fingers and flick a match across the lint side with my good hand. The box falls out, clacking as it hits the table. _Maybe if I use my elbow._  
“Oh My God! I’ll do it, jeez,” she snaps. And takes the small red box. “but on one condition. I can have one.”   
“How about no.”  
She smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Well it looks like your quitting today then,” she says.  
My head hurts. My hand hurts. My whole life hurts. My lighter is missing.   
“OK! But not a whole one.”   
She nods as her wrist flicks over the box and waves the small flame in mt face. I close my eyes and take a drag.   
  
  
"How about something like... I love you dad... or best dad in the world," she asks.  
"That's way to obvious. We might as well put a sigh that says sorry we punched your wall!”  
"Woah, woah, woah... Your the rage monkey that punched the wall, not me!" she says.   
She crunches up a piece of paper and hurls it at my head. I catch it mid-air. And fling it back. It bounces off her head, on to the table and rolls to the floor.   
"Can't we blame you, though? Dad won’t get mad at you,” I laugh.   
The corners of her smile pull down as she turns her attention away. She scratches tiny flakes off a green crayon, leaving a small pile on the picture below.   
“I’m sorry about your eye ken.” She says.   
“What?! It wasn’t your fault a tiger escaped from a zoo and round house kicked me in the face.”  
“Kenny!” She says. Smiling again.   
“This is not your fault! I’m the one that broke the window, not you. You don’t have to worry about me,” I say.   
And I pass her the last half of the cigarette.   
_It's my job to worry about you._  
  
Underneath her arms is the most awesome drawing of a fish I have ever seen. One of those plastic fish on a wooden plaque that sung awesome Reggae songs. The same fish Dad used to have before he smashed it over Kevin’s head. I pull it out from under her and dust all the crayon shaving off.   
"This is it, this is the one!" I say.   
  
Karen takes to the tape and sticks her beautiful masterpiece over the fist size hole.   
“This is full proof," she says. Pressing on to the tape with her thumbs. The big green crayon Fish sits nicely in place over the hole. With the words don’t worry be happy in large red letters.

  
  


  
  
  
“Oh, We better go before it gets dark,” Karen says.   
“What? You're not coming with us,” I say.   
_And yeah we need it to be dark. How else do we see the flames?_  
"Us?" She says.   
"Yeah... Us?" I scratch my head “me, Cartman, Stan and Kyle?”  
"Umm what happened to the bridge?!" She asks.   
"What do you mean the bridge?"   
"You said last night. YOU would take ME to the bridge!"   
My eye narrow. I scratch my chin. Her small pointy nose sticks up in the air and she crosses her arms.   
"Well then. I'm coming with you guys,” she demands.   
“Fuck NO!” I protest.   
Me, the boys plus Ren. I will never, not in a million years put those two worlds together.   
WHY?" she asks.   
"Because my friends are retarded!"   
"Your RETARDED!"   
"EXACTLY!"   
A shriek Of frustration exits her clenched teeth. She storms to her room and slams the door behind her. Making the house shake a little. God dam it. I’m never getting high again!   
  
I run after her and knock on the door.  
"REN!" I yell. “REN, Open up,"  
"Go Away," she says.  
"I already said I would go with them yesterday. Please Ren.”   
I press my ear against her door. My whole body weight leans in... "can we go tomorrow? After school?"  
Everything goes quite.   
"Ren?”  
 _Click._  
The door vanishes from beneath my ear and I stumble forward. My arms pull in, protecting my crippled hand as my cheek hits the carpet. It burns as I slide flat. _Ouch._   
Two small feet stand beside me, and I roll on my back to face Ren. She towers over me. Hands on her hips, hair flowing down past her face.   
“I can’t, I’m busy,” she says.   
“Busy! With what... Or whom?” I say.   
Her nostrils flare. And she points to the door.

  
  


  
_View comments_  
  
  
 **stephenstotch_** : You change your username this instant young man before your mother sees it!!   
**Butter_Balls01** : yes sir.   
**stephenstotch_** : you are grounded mister... again!  
  
 **kencormick69** : I don’t remember how I got my car home.   
**Butter_balls01** : You walked here :)   
**kencormick69** : oh yeah :)

  
  


  
  
  
The moon light breaks through the clouds, shining on the snow-capped mountains in the distance. They reflect over Starks Pond. Sparkling till it reaches the shadows of the reads. I'll have to take Leo here if he ever gains his freedom back. ‘Cause it would be an awesome place to get high.   
  
Cartman is on his knees. He tries balancing a large rocket between some massive rocks. Kyle hovers over his fat shoulder, holding his phone light and a small brown teddy bear that one of Stan's distance relatives sent him for his birthday.   
  
“Your doing it wrong,” Kyle snaps, “you're supposed to tie the bear on first fat ass.”  
“Shut up kahl. This is a mans job. And as you can’t grow facial hair like me. You are not a man.” Carman says.   
“That thing on your lip is not facial hair dude,” I say, “it’s more like butt fluff.”   
“Shut up kinny. Unless your gonna help. Oh wait, you can’t cause you broke your hand jacking off to your fugly boyfriend yesterday,” he says.   
My head jolts back.   
“Pfft, No! Broke it fisting your mom,” I say.

  
  


  
“Hey!” He growls.   
“Hmm your right. Your moms cooch is WAY too loose to break hands from giving birth to your fat head,” I smile.   
  
The fat boy screams and jumps me. His squishy arms wrap around my neck. And Everything blurs as he pulls me to the ground. He grabs my hood. I press on his face, thrusting him away. But he ducks under and whirls us both in the dirt. I punch him square in his nuts. His eyes grows wide as he grips his balls. And Blue and brown slushy like vomit projectiles out of his face hole. Tears swell up in my eyes as the pain in my knuckles stings and throbs. Butters is not Fugly.  
  
“Ok guys! Are you done making out yet?" Stan says.   
Kyle snorts. He Covers up his mouth with his hands forcing the laughter to stop. But it burst through. Muffling loudly in between his fingers.   
“Ahahagahah oh fuckhahahs!”  
“Dude!” Stan smiles.   
The green hat falls to the ground revealing Kyle’s red curls as he bends over, slapping his knees.   
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he chuckles.  
  
Cartman sits up mouth open, eyes wet. Grass and dirt is stuck to his face along with chunks of something orange. I reach for Cartmans fat hand and Let out a breath as I pull the poor kid to his feet. And pat him on the back trying not to laugh myself. We compose ourselves and Stand around the rocket like its the greatest thing we have ever seen. Stan band down. He stretches his arm back, palm out towards me. He stretches his arm back.   
“Ok Kenny, Give me your lighter.”  
  
_Whoops.  
_

  
  



	7. Goodbye Mister Kitty

  
  


The lockers next to mine rattles as Powder leans back. Her mouth moves nonstop. Nothing but white noise comes out. And her arms fling around like a dancing muppet. But its not all annoying. The abrupt movements make her boobs jiggle under a baggy, familiar band t-shirt.

"Hey, is that my shirt?" I ask.

"What?" She says, "Kenny, are you even listening?"

_'Buzz. Buzz.'_

**Kyle**

**_HEY DUDE SPANISH TEST! We are getting separated, so I found the answers for you. Also cheating is immoral and wrong, but would be a hypocrite in saying I haven't done it, so study fast my friend._ **

K. :)

**_I know. I'm the best._ **

"KENNY!"  
"Hmm?"  
Her shoulders tense, upper lip twitches and eyes darkened with war paint, fill with death.   
"Really? Are you Really texting right now?" She says.   
A sharp sting runs up my arm as she snatches the phone from my bandaged hand. And It flies across the hall with such force, it explodes against the wall.   
_Ahhhhh What the fuck!_  
"And to think I was going let you..." she breaks off, disappearing quickly down the noisy corridor.  
"Wait, let me what? Powder! POWDER! Let me what?!"  
 _God Damn it._

The Morning bell rings making everyone scatter. I navigate through the crowd as they push and shove like they actually want to get to class. And stop at the hundreds of phone shards scattered all over the floor. Well, I guess I'm failing Spanish this semester.

"Oh, jeez Ken! Your phone doesn't look so crash hot. Well, It looks like the 'crash' part though," Butters laughs.   
"Hey Leo. Yeah. But it was already on its way out. No biggy," I lie. And die a little inside, "anyway. What's been happening? I haven't seen you at lunch in days... your not avoiding me too, are you?"  
"No no no no, not avoiding, you, too? I've been working on that art project. That's all," he scratches his head and glances back at the boys bathroom door.   
"Say, you're not going to the bathroom, are ya?" He says.   
"Ah, no. Why?"   
"No reason. I'll see you in Spanish," he says.   
_Weird._  
"Ok... why?" I say.   
"Nothing. Eric told me not to tell... ... Oh Hamburgers!"  
Eric? What's he up to? And why wasn't I invited? I'm not missing out this time. What if he makes a dick of himself without me!?

My shoulder bumps Butters as I push through the heavy blue door. The handle clanks on the tiled wall and slowly squeaks shut. Butters catches the door, huffing behind me as he fumbles his speech.   
"I'm sorry Eric! He... I... couldn't...um."  
"You... fucking... S-suck...but-teerrs," Cartman's sobs echos in the empty blue room.   
I bend down on my knee and peek under the stalls, narrowly avoiding a used band-aid. In the darkest one, at the far end hides two sneakers attached to two fat cankles.   
"What have you done now?" I ask.   
"Go Away Kinneee," he sobs.  
 _That bad huh?_  
"Im not going anywhere till you come out here."  
"Me neither Eric. You can come out, it's going to be ok," Butters says.   
"Your... such ... a ... douche-bag butters!" Cartman cries.

We wait out side the stalls. The sobs now even louder 'cause The hallway noise is completely silent. And Butters taps a tune with his finger on the urinal. His cheeks are rosy and his eyes sparkle as he nods to the beat. One corner of my mouth pulls up.

"Look at you skipping class all like a bad ass," I say.   
"I don't know if it's a good idea. But it's for a good reason. If I...Hold on?"   
The sparkle disappears. He grabs my wrist and rips it up to his face.   
_Ouch._  
 _"_ What happened to your hand?"   
I quickly pull away.   
"Nothing, don't worry about it."  
"Shu... ah...ah... t up," Cartman hiccups, "this is supposed to be about meeee... eee."   
"Well then come out and tell us what the fuck is wrong!" I snap.  
Cartman goes silent. No sobs, cry's or sniffles. And Click. Red faced and puffy eyed, he finally hobbles out of the stall. He wipes a long snail trail across his sleeve and wraps his arms around me. He squeezes so tight, I gasp.  
"Woah! Dude, are you ok?"   
Usually, Cartman's pain is enjoyable. Especially if he deserves it, which is most of the time. No, this is a bit off. Like he's actually genuinely upset.

"Kitty is Dead!" He says.   
_WHAT! Not kitty._  
Something in side my chest sinks a little. I wriggle my arms free from his grip and squeeze them around his soft, squishy body as his eyes flood with tears again.   
"It's ok Eric, Let all the feeling out," Butters says.   
He reaches over Cartman and pulls us all together, forming some sort of sad human sandwich. Its nice though. Warm. And safe.

Kyle bursts through the door Face full of desperation as he guns for the stalls. But he stops dead in his tracks.  
"Umm? What am I looking at?"

  
  


  
Patches of new snow lay on the lawn. Fairy lights sparkle in the trimmed hedges. And by the back fence is a cardboard box, shovel and a hole in the ground.   
Cartman himself is looking pretty neat in a black and white tuxedo. How he gets changed so fast is a mystery of its own. Me, Butters, Stan and Kyle all huddle together, trying not freeze our ass's off, while Cartman lowers the cardboard box into the ground. He slumps over the hole, straightens his bow tie and clears his throat.

"We are all gathered here today, to fair well my beloved, Mister Kitty.   
Kitty was a simple cat, incredibly talented, with cuteness that could stop WW3 in its tracks... even though WW3 would just be so fucking kewl. But Kitty just wanted every one to get along. Kitty was also a better friend then any of you hoboes and was loved by all... except for you Kinny.  
I can still hear your little meows. And see your big Eyes as you beg For some of my pot pie.  
Kitty, where ever you are, I just want to let you know... you were a good kitty, that's a good kitty. GOOD KITTY!" he screams.

Stan starts to cry and passes Kyle a tissue box. Snot streams from Cartman's nose and the small collar jingles in his hands as he shakes as Butters wraps his arms around him. I pull my hood up, letting it soak up the tears.

  
  


  
The ceremony comes to an end. And with Cartman unable to cry anymore, we head to the basement.   
I run down the narrow steps, call dibs on the couch in muffled speech and throw my self across the stained cushions. The poor old couch creaks under extra pressure as Stan jumps on top and bounces on my stomach. His arms raise up like I'm a cheeps carnival ride.  
"Let's! Get! Wasted!" he shouts.  
"Sounds good..." I wheeze.  
"Dude, its Wednesday," Kyle says, flopping on the beanbag by the Bluetooth speakers and puts on our usual playlist.   
"Don't be a downer, Kyel," Cartman says. And rattles through boxes behind the stairs. They clink as he pulls out a few bottles of red wine. One in each hand like marraccas, he cha chas. Finishing with a pirouette. Ms Cartman's wine stash is one of many great perks of the basement. 

  
  


We all raise our cups above our heads.   
"To Kitty!"   
_May she Rest In Peace._  
We toast and chug the wine back. Kyle gags a little. Butters grimaces. And Stan takes another swig straight from the bottle.   
Red wine is gross. I'll never understand why people like the stuff so much. Is it 'cause it's meant to be fancy? Or more the super high alcohol content? I scull the rest back. The warmth turns in my stomach and spreads to a light fuzzy haze all over. Its gotta be the high alcohol.

"Butters!... Why are you such a pussy," Stan ask.  
"I, ah shouldn't have anymore,"   
Butters covers the top of his cup. Cartman, sprawled out on the concrete floor, clucks loudly. He flaps his fat folded arms. And like a beak, holds his empty cup between his teeth. I let out a snort.   
"You know where pussies end up?" I say.  
"No?" Butters asks.  
"In the ground."   
"HEY!" Cartman yells.  
He jolts to a crunch. Fat chicken limbs stretched out at nothing as he attempts to pull himself off the ground but fails like the beached whale he really is.   
"Too soon. Way too soon, you fucking asshole." He shouts.   
My head ducks to the side as the air from a flying cup zooms past my ear.   
  
"Alright fellas. But only one more," Butters says.

  
  


  
  
The front of Cartman's house turns pitch black as his porch light flicks off. We stagger to the dimly lit sidewalk. And Besides Stan confessing his bro love to Kyle the neighborhood is freakishly quiet.

"Dude! I Love you so much. Don't you ever leave me!" Stan cries. He pushes the skinny red head away and runs up the road, death growling some metal lyrics. His crazy talent always catches me off guard. It's just so fucking good.   
"Shhhhut Up! My mom's Going to freak!" Kyle says.   
"Fuck you, Kyle!" Stan yells.   
He blows Kyle a kiss, halfway pulls his pants off And falls face first in the snow. A long drawn out breath comes from Kyle as he drags his passed out bestie through the back gate by his legs.

"All right," butters yawns, swaying a little, "I better go home. I'll see you at home. HICK... at school! I mean."  
"Pfft, your not going home," I slur.  
"Ken, I'm... HICK!"   
"Nope. You 'n' me are going on an adventure" _cue Magic Jazz hands, "_ And, Don't even worry so much. If anything bad happens, I'll protect you."

  
  


He turns away, staggers to the road verge and sits down at the edge. Head tilled, lips pursed I follow behind him. This is not the adventure I had in mind.   
"You know, sometimes I'm pretty capable of protecting myself. But I'm sort of worried about you," he says, "What actually happened to your hand... If it was that 'door' beating you up again, you can tell me."  
The concrete freezes my back as I lay down next to him. The clouds part like drapes and hundreds of stars dance and spin in to a glittery blur.   
I shut my eyes.   
"You don't have to worry. It wasn't the 'door' this time," I say.  
No, this was my fault... 

His cold fingers gently twist between mine and I press them on my burning cheek. 

  
  


  
"...Hey, Do you remember the party last summer?" I ask.   
"Yeah. It destroyed my house and got me grounded for life," he says.   
"No. I mean," _how do I say this_ , "do you remember what we did, that night?"  
"Ahhh. Hmm. HICK. After the dogs came running through, attacking everyone... I might of saw you then?" He says, "Oh yeah!"   
_Yeah!?_  
"The bathtub! It fell through the second floor and almost crushed me. Kenny! You should have seen it! It was like something pushed me out the way! I wanted to tell yah sooner. But you were sort of distant."  
"Oh..." Butterflies flutter in my stomach, "I'm sorry Leo."   
"That's ok, I figured it was just a 'door' thing," he says softly, "And I know how crappy they can be."  
He untangles his hand. And the butterflies flutter harder as he guides my face to his. I gently graze the stubble on his jaw line and slide my fingers up the back of his neck. My heart throbs, Our lips meet and I press him closer as our tongues circle. Every thing around us vanishes. Just as it did the first time we kissed. But the Butterflies turn violent. My eyes pop open and I push him out the way.   
_'BLUGHHhhhhh'_  
A river of dark red vomit streams from my mouth. Nostrils burning, I gasp and drool out the left over chunks of red.   
"Whoa! I'm sorry I'm sorry!" Butters panics.  
My stomach tightens.   
_'BLUGHhhh!'_

"BUTTERS!?" A voice Booms from behind a blinding light. My hands slips in the chunky puddle and warm vomit squishes in to the bandage as I wobble to my feet.   
It's Mr Stotch. He shines a torch in both our faces, then to the ground. And grabs Butters by the ear, tearing him away from me.

"You're in big trouble young man. Big trouble! So you started smoking grade 'A' weed. Skipping classes. And now you're out here, kissing boys!? ... Wait a darn minuet?" He leans towards Butters, who's eyes grow wide. And sniffs his breath. "Are you drunk? I do not care how Good that weed was mister. Or how fancy the Cabernet' Sauvignon was. You're supposed to be ground..."  
"Fuck off Stotch," I yell.   
Butters jaw drop and face turns ghost white.   
"Stop being such a Cunt," I say.   
And push Stotch in the chest. His dressing gown flows as he stumbles back with two burgundy prints on his shirt.   
"Stop!" Butters shouts, "STOP... It's ok Ken. I'll... I'll see you tomorrow. Just GO!"  
He pulls his dad away, but Mr Stotch's shock quickly turns to murderous rage. A man about to kill, and I'm in the firing line. My blood runs cold. I turn and run. Run as fast as my stupid, drunk fucking legs take me. Down the dark street. Across the railway. Through the house And into my dark room.

_What the fuck did I just do?_

  
  



End file.
